PENTIRE POINT AGAIN

If you rest awhile and stand high above Pentire Point.
The restless sea is far far below.
It rages back and forth but the sound is faint.
All is quiet here despite the seas fast tidal flow.

Thus must the dead from a high point serene.
Look down on us weary mortals.
Our lives race in and out, our ambitions unresolved though keen.
We come in with the tide and we go out for we must pass through death’s portals.

In this great ocean.
We are a merest bubble of water.
Our lives but the merest token.
All then subsumed and carried away before our slaughter.

For us all is weary movement.
But one day on these high cliffs we will look down, cured of all disappointment.